old to do such things.
‘No, not me. But mum, you do it, with dad. Your favourite, “I wandered today to the hills, Maggie...”’
The melody of ‘The Song of Maggie’ had been deeply rooted in our minds since our infancy along with the gentle voices of mother and father. Even now I feel like crying when I imagine them, young and in love, singing it together as they dreamed of their future, happily married, bringing up a brood of happy children.
Sŏnhi and I stood against the wall and sang ‘Clementine.’ Father clapped loudly and praised us. ‘They’ve got good voices just like their mother. I have a mind to send then to a music school!’
Then all the family sang together a song from the gramophone record:
The sun has gone down from the top of the hills,
‘Caw, caw’, cawing the crows are homewards too.
We’ll meet again tomorrow, till then adieu,
Let us to our mama’s welcoming arms.
Join hands together and stand in a ring, then
Let them go at one, two, three.
Bow your heads for a goodbye now,
Let us to papa’s welcoming lap.
As the last song was coming to a close, Myŏngsŏk woke from his sleep and joined in the fun, keeping the rhythm with his hips while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His rosy cheeks were dimpled and, fully awake, his eyes were like two bright stars. We adored him. Now joined by the youngest member, the family fun gained a new momentum. Myŏngsŏk liked music. When in a good mood he would go on singing to himself making it up as he went along, picking up bits from here and there from the family songs, the gramophone, or the labourer’s singing, keeping time with his head. This particular evening, he sang his latest song in which some mysterious words recurred. Mother interpreted them:
Daddy’s train’s gone away, chuff, chuff, chuff,
The toffee man went away and never, never, never comes again...
‘What a clever boy!’ Father gathered him in his arms and said, ‘That is a very good song. His rhythm is right and a good tune too.’
Suddenly there was a commotion outside the door. Opening it, we saw in the courtyard, Samsu, a casual worker from the village, blubbering.
‘Please come and save her, sir. My wife, she is dying. She’s been whimpering with tummy ache since lunch. Thinking it’s the old worms playing up again, I let it be, and now she’s...’
My father cut him short.
‘Is it upper or lower stomach? Has she been sick? Is she hot?’ He told mother to fetch the first-aid kit while he put on his shoes.
‘Let’s go and see.’ They disappeared round the bend into the darkness.
On both sides of the house were paddies and beyond them the vast orchards. At the far end of the front yard and behind the house grew all kinds of fruit – peaches, pears, persimmons, plums, grapes, dates, chestnuts and walnuts.
The village was called Sapsuri. The village and its surrounding countryside in Kangwŏn Province, now a part of North Korea, was to my father, his kingdom and Utopia. He had built up this community with his blood and sweat, and youthful idealism to practise his passionate patriotism.
When he came back from Japan with his hard-won graduation certificate, he found his country, now a Japanese colony, a difficult place to find a job that suited him. Besides, young intellectuals like himself were under constant police surveillance. After a long, frustrating search for a job, he had decided to serve his country by living amongst the uneducated farming folk and enlightening them. With all his inherited money he bought a hundred acres of land here and developed it into a flourishing orchard and farm.
He started night classes and taught ignorant people to read and write. Over the years he had become a sort of sage. He was a friend, teacher, scribe and solicitor, and a mediator when there was a row. He even treated minor ailments.
When he made up his mind to forsake his Utopia, it must have been a heart-breaking decision for him. He could do it only because, to his mind, the education of his children was a matter of highest importance.
The day came when my sister, Sŏnhi was to be taken away to Seoul. When we set out in the morning to see her off there were six of us, the whole family, but after we had said goodbye to my father and his party at the eastern gate of the village, there were only three of us on our way back home, mother, Myŏngsŏk and me. Many nights I went to sleep sobbing, and then pitiably cried out in my sleep calling, ‘sister’, or ‘I want my Sŏnhi,’ making my mother weep.
One day I wandered off by myself to a place where I used to go with Sŏnhi to play. It was where the look-out shelter was in the middle of melon plantation. A four-feet-square platform with straw roof was propped up on four wooden stilts. You climbed on it by a ladder left there slanting against the side of the platform. As I climbed the steps of the ladder, I longed for Sŏnhi so much that I thought my heart would break. Even now I vividly recall the sensation – a first taste of sorrow in my life. The next thing I knew was that I was lying in bed back at home, conscious of the presence of some women around me.
‘If it wasn’t for the thought of Sŏnhi how could she dare to go off that far on her own?’
‘They really are a peculiar pair, aren’t they? I’ve never known any girls quite like these two.’
‘Since Sŏnhi went away, I just can’t relax for a minute for the worry of this child...’ It was mother’s voice. I opened my eyes and saw her two large sad eyes looking down into mine.
I must have had slipped off the ladder. Apparently a village woman found me lying on the ground unconscious and brought me home, carrying me on her back.
Chapter 4
A Chronicle of April
1 April. When I met Mr Kwŏn at the tea-room ‘Rose’ we felt quite natural as if we had known each other for a long time. He made me sit beside him and ordered the coffee without asking me whether I wanted it or not. He had by him a red-covered book which turned out to be Grace Metalious’ Peyton Place. When he saw me eying it he said, ‘It was sent to me by a close friend from the time I was in America. Would you like to borrow it?’ I was delighted. Besides, I now knew that he had been to America. I was dying to ask him which state, and for how long, but I refrained. I might have appeared vulgar to show too much curiosity in someone else’s private life. But I am sure his experience will be helpful when my time comes. Probably his polished manners and the refinement in his clothing are thanks to his American experience. He praised me twice today. I know it is a weakness but when he praises me I get excited and silly.
‘You look very nice in that dress. It reminds me of a fashion model I knew once in the States.’
‘Goodness!’ I thought as I blushed. I was wearing my marine blue dress with a black satin belt tied in a bow at the back. I had a matching pair of high heeled shoes. As we came down the stairs I caught my reflection in the long mirror on the landing.
